


Withheld

by annelea



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annelea/pseuds/annelea
Summary: Iruka And Ayame spend a night celebrating.  Seven years later, Ayame has a lot to answer for.





	Withheld

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Faceworthy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faceworthy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [After School](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6417682) by [annelea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annelea/pseuds/annelea). 



> For Faceworthy who asked back in April for more of After School.
> 
> I'm not sure how much lemon/smut you like, so I'll keep it low key if I can.

At thirty-four, Iruka could honestly say He was beginning to like his job.  These days, teaching kids to become shinobi meant more than that.  He wasn't just there to help children to death's door, knowing most of those who graduated would not be sent out on life or death missions if a couple years.  No, these days, the curriculum prepared them for far more.  If being a shinobi didn't work out, they could always go to another line of work.  They could be scientists, doctors, chefs, or go into trade fields like carpentry.  They could work in banks, foods, plumbing, or even become teachers themselves without having been on missions as shinobi.  Instead, they'd need to excel in math, history, or anything else that could contribute to younger children.

Yes, he was certainly more content with his work.

Thinking about today's algebra lesson, the first one of the year, the first period class of the first day of the school year, he felt a little excited.  Today would not be the day he started breaking dreams, shattering preconceptions, and weeding out those who thought being a shinobi only meant excitement and glory.  Today, he would start passing on real world knowledge that could be used for shinobi and anyone else for that matter.

Children shuffled in, some yawning, some still finishing breakfast, some wide-eyed and looking like they'd had more cups of coffee than he did this morning.  All in all, he didn't pay them much attention, instead choosing to survey the names on the list before him and counting heads.  For once, the number of heads actually matched to the number of names.  Today was certainly special.

All went according to plan until one little girl asked _the_ question.

"Sensei, were you ever actually a shinobi?"

"Now why would you ask such a question, Haruko-chan?" he asked, priding himself on remembering every name of each class from day one.

"It's just... you dress like one, and you have a hitai-ate, and you have that scar on your nose... but you don't seem like other shinobi I've met.  Most are quiet, sad, or angry."

"Most, yes, but have you ever met Uzumaki Naruto?"  He knew that name would get their attention.  "He used to sit right where you sit.  He had every reason to be angry, sad, and act out.  He did all of those things, but pretended to be happy.  The truth is, he has become happy these days.  His smile is real.  He has seen a lot of bad things as a shinobi, but he has happiness and peace within him."

"Yeah, but...  I asked about _you_ , sensei."

Well, this girl would most likely succeed.  She knew how to stay on topic even with a bright carrot hanging in front of her face.  Focused and persistent.  He liked students like that for the most part.

"Were you in the war?" another kid pipped up.

"I was," he nodded.

"Was it cool?" the same boy asked.

Ah.  There was the question.  Was war cool?

"I bet it was awesome!  I've seen some artwork done of the Juubi."

"Did you think it was 'cool' when your homes were destroyed when you were little?" Iruka snapped out, loosing just a little of his control.

That put things into perspective for those who could remember being three or four years old when Pein attacked.

"Most of this village was lost that day, and Pein's powers were minute compared to what we faced after that," Iruka explained.  "It is not fun to try and defend your home from such awesome power.  It is scary, exhausting, and demoralizing when you realize you're going to loose no matter what.  To struggle on, to keep fighting even under loosing conditions even as your last breath leaves your body...  That is what it means to be a shinobi.  Yes, there are awesome abilities out there, a few of you might learn one or two.

"I hope you never have to use them outside of training.  I hope you never have to resort to edo tensei, chidori, dojutsu, tailed beasts, or any of the other plethora of awesome destructive abilities and powers exist in our world.  Such things have only brought sorrow and loss.  Famous shinobi are the most sad, most angry, have lost more than they can count, and only have either fat or non-existent bank accounts to show for it.  This line of work only gives you hope and a broken body at best.  At worst, you'll be on your own and hunted by everyone else with no safe haven even among civilian villages."

The kids were quiet now.  Many looked like they didn't want to be in the room any more.

Yeah, he used to open each year with a similar speech.  He'd hoped not to have to do it this time.

"I'm sure some of you remember the day this village became nothing more than a pile of rubble in a crater.  Most of us actually died that day.  That is, most of us shinobi who stayed behind while you kids were shuffled off into the tunnels in the mountain.  If it wasn't for the saddest, most angry person, we would have remained dead.  Instead, we were brought back.  And for what?  To go to war and be killed again.  Thousands went to war, thousands died.

"I want to prepare you for the reason why we didn't all end up worse off than we did.  You see, doctors, medic-nin, carpenters, engeniers, electritions, farmers, weavers, taylors, cobblers, masons, and many more are responsible for getting things back on track here within a year of the Fourth War.  We need to be able to honor them by learning their trades.  We need to be more self sufficient as shinobi.  We need to be less of a burden on civilians and more of a help to them.  That is what I aim to teach you in this classroom.  I will not only be teaching you to use your chakra for distraction, defense, and weapons, but your body as weapons, and shields.  I will be teaching you to use your minds tactically, and innovatively.  I will be teaching you how to do things for yourselves outside of that, too.  You will learn to mend your own clothing, basic first-aid, identify plants that are safe to eat rather than just how to hunt for meat.  Things like that are important to know."

And the first half of the day ended with the bell ringing.  It was time for lunch.

Most of the kids separated into one of three major groups.  The kids who would be the popular ones took over the middle seats.  The wanna-be bad ass kids took a corner near the back.  The quiet, but talented kids who liked books, art, and music found a spot off to the side.  They'd already scouted one another out before class, it seemed.  Most kids were good at that.  A few sat together on the other side to talk about who knew what.

One stayed right where he was.

His name was Ichiraku Isamu.  He was Ichiraku Ayame's son.  He was born thirty-seven weeks and two days after Konoha's forces had returned from the Fourth War.  He was two years younger than the rest of his class.  Though he was on-par for the age requirement of years past, most kids started a couple years later these days.  Only those who were born into ninja clans tended to start as young as this kid.  The difference was, this kid was born to a civilian.  If anything, Iruka would have expected him to start three years from now if at all.

Perplexed, Iruka took his lunch and approached the boy.  "Isamu-kun, may I sit with you?"

"Why?"

The question was asked out of curiosity.  This kid wasn't anti-people, at least.

"Because you looked lonely," Iruka half-lied with a shrug.

"Okay," the kid shrugged back and moved his back pack off the table, making room.

"So, tell me," Iruka started the conversation a few bites into his meal, "why are you here?  I read you're the son of Ichiraku Ramen's owner, Ayame.  Not interested in the family business?"

Isamu shook his head.  "I want to learn about my dad.  I want to know why he died."

"Ah...  your father was a shinobi?"

"Yeah.  A chunin, Mom says.  I don't even know his name.  She won't tell me anything about him, so...  I figured I'd apply here and see what his life was like, at least."

Iruka nodded, understanding.  "I wonder...  You don't look much like your mother.  Perhaps I could help you find out who he was.  Your mother said he was a chunin, and that he is no longer alive.  Do you know about when he died?"

"You're really going to help me?" Isamu turned his dark eyes on Iruka, hope shining within them.

"I will do what I can.  I've seen a lot of kids come through these doors with only one, or none of their parents.  I am an orphan myself, you know?  I know how much it means, whatever little can be learned about one's family."

Iruka studied the child harder as the smile broke out on Isamu's face.  Yeah.  That smile, that nose, those eyes, even the darker skin were both so unlike the kid's mother, and so familiar at the same time.  This kid didn't see it, but Iruka did.  He didn't have to do any digging through old files and family photo albums.  At home, he had framed the last family portrait he'd ever had with his parents.  He was a year younger than Isamu when it was taken.  Isamu could be Iruka's twin.

The thing that ate at him the most was why.  Why hadn't she said anything?  Why had she kept the truth from them both?  If she didn't want Isamu following in his footsteps, why allow him here?  Why not have him transferred to a different class when she learned who his teacher would be?  What was she thinking?

He had never regretted that night, seven years ago.  The only thing he regretted was not making time to visit her again.  He saw her in passing now and then, but she always walked away before he could say anything.  She was never around when he stopped by for ramen, always having someone else take his order as she walked out the door.

Now he understood why, when he didn't have time to see her after that one night, she made sure he didn't see her again all these years.  She was scared, angry, sad... all kinds of things.  Such a realization didn't stop him from being upset with her, though.

This kid grew up without his father for no good reason.  His mother had lied to him on top of that.  This was going to stop.  Today.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. It's late, and I think this is a good stopping point.
> 
> Or, is it early? I don't know. I'm too tired to continue right now.


End file.
